


All of this wrong, but we're still right here

by pandoraspockz



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Minor Character Death, angsty, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandoraspockz/pseuds/pandoraspockz
Summary: A mission turns tragic and Yaz blames herself, so the Doctor tries to comfort her.





	All of this wrong, but we're still right here

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, me again! Second Thasmin story in as many days, so I think that's enough to consider me trash, yeah? 
> 
> Once again, I'm new here, still figuring out this universe and it's characters, so please be kind (not that you all haven't been absolutely lovely so far).
> 
> This is based on a post on tumblr from @mini-oddity about wanting to see a scene where the Doctor drapes her coat over Yaz. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and thanks again to my best friend for looking this over for me!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Yaz thought bitterly, tears burning behind her eyes.

They were the heroes, meant to swoop in when someone needed them most and save the day. And by all accounts they had. The alien creature was gone, something the Doctor had called a Syrukrabi. It had been attacking the small fishing village, killing the livestock and poisoning the water supply when they’d arrived. After a rampage through the small town, they’d managed to corner it near the riverbank and stun it before transporting it off-world and back to its own planet.

They’d saved the day again, technically.  
But not really.  
Not completely. 

Yaz shuddered as she saw the little boy in her mind’s eye; his terrified face and silent scream as the monster had bared down upon him. It had happened as if in slow motion; Yaz sprinting futilely, stitch tearing in her side, trying to reach the child, but she had failed. She could still hear the sound of his bones crushing as he’d been trampled underfoot by the retreating creature.

She’d been too weak, too slow, too _human_.  
Now a child was dead.  
Because of her. 

The village had gathered to hold a mourning feast, a tradition when a death occurred in their community, and they had all been invited to attend as a thanks for their help in getting rid of the beast. The Doctor had accepted graciously, but Yaz couldn’t stomach the thought, so she’d slipped away when no one was looking. She had wandered back down to the riverbank and sank down onto a rotting log, listening to the rush of the water to try and drown out the screaming of her thoughts. Whether minutes or hours passed by, she couldn’t be certain.

So consumed by her grief, Yaz didn’t hear the gentle footsteps coming up behind her. She remained still, her eyes staring off into the distance, unaware of her approaching company until a warm weight settled over her hunched frame. The Doctor carefully draped her long coat around Yaz’s rigid body, smoothing down the shoulders before quietly taking a seat beside her companion. They sat in silence for several minutes. Yaz was sure that the Doctor was upset with her, disappointed in her human limitations that had led to the death of an innocent child. She waited for the anger to come, the words of admonishment for her failure. They never did.

“It wasn’t your fault, Yaz,” the Doctor murmured gently, turning to look at her with sympathetic eyes.

Yaz’s head whipped around, shock and disbelief written across her face. “Of course it was,” she argued hoarsely, her voice cracking with despair. “I should have been faster, I should have—I should have saved him.” Her words gave way to a wave of tears. They streaked down her cheeks, carving tracks into the dark skin before dripping down onto the waiting earth below. Her breaths came in short gasps as her whole body trembled violently.

“Yaz,” the Doctor soothed, resting her hand gently against the younger woman’s forearm. “Luv, it was an accident. We ‘ad no way of knowin’ it was gonna come crashin’ through the village. This wasn’t anyone’s fault. We did everything we could, especially you.”

“But it’s not supposed to be like this,” Yaz sobbed, pulling the coat tighter around her body as she bowed her head in anguish. The Doctor reached forward and pulled Yaz to her, wrapping her arms around the young girl’s shoulders. She carded her fingers through long brown hair as she felt teardrops soak steadily into her shirt and skin.

“No,” the Doctor whispered. “No, it isn’t. But sometimes the universe is anythin’ but fair. It doesn’t discriminate in its cruelty, it just takes at its own discretion and thinks nothin’ of the wreckage it leaves in its wake.”

In the short time they had known each other, Yaz had never hear the Doctor sound so bitter, so utterly cynical. It made her realize that there were still things she didn’t know. Hundreds of years’ worth of experiences, of lives lived, of tragedies seen. Of love lost. Her own grief seemed so miniscule, almost selfish, but before she could think of a response, the Doctor continued.

“But that doesn’t mean we lose hope,” she encouraged. “That we lose sight of all the good that exists, as well. We have to use that to propel us forward, to plan for the future. To fight back against all that cruelty and create more good whenever we can. So that hope can prevail.”

Yaz shook her head slightly, wiping at the remnants of tears on her cheeks. “But how can we possibly create any good from this?” she asked.

“We remember him,” the Doctor replied, tightening her grip around Yaz’s shoulders. “We remember him and we speak his name to the stars. So that it echoes out into the universe forever. And in those echoes, his spirit lives on.”

Yaz looked up into the Doctor’s eyes, shining with compassion. She felt the weight and warmth of the coat around her shoulders and drew strength from the woman that it belonged to. Hundreds of years’ worth of experiences had somehow only strengthened her faith that goodness could not only survive in the darkest recesses of space and time, but thrive. And as she found herself wrapped securely in the Time Lord’s arms, Yaz found that she could believe it, too. Turning her gaze back towards the sky, she took a deep breath and let the cool air fill her lungs.

“Uskyld,” Yaz murmured, a couple of more tears slipping down her cheeks as she finally said the child’s name aloud, letting it ripple out to the stars above them.

“Uskyld,” the Doctor repeated gently, pulling the young woman toward her so that their heads were resting together as they looked up into the vast night sky.

Up the hill from the riverbank, the mourning feast carried on, but neither woman made to rejoin it. Far more content were they to sit in each other’s embrace, listening to the gentle rush of the river before them and finding solace in the hope of one more tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @pandora-spockz over on Tumblr so feel free to drop by and say hello!


End file.
